


Lying's the Most Fun a Boy Can Have

by mishasfakeorgasm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit of angst, Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, For A Good Cause, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Lack of Communication, M/M, New York City, landlord crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishasfakeorgasm/pseuds/mishasfakeorgasm
Summary: Dean and Cas live in their shitty NYC apartment, struggling to make rent every month. When Crowley tells Dean that they suddenly owe thousands more? Dean must take matters into his own hands.





	Lying's the Most Fun a Boy Can Have

**Late afternoon. Monday. 1992.**

Pulling the garage-like door of my apartment up enough to duck inside, the single exposed light bulb buzzes in greeting from its spot on the ceiling. Exhausted, I nearly collapse on the person already sitting on my couch.

I almost jump out of my skin. “What the hell?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Winchester.”

I shoot my landlord a dirty look. “Crowley.”

If the Scotsman picks up on my disdain for him, he ignores it perfectly. “How are you today, Dean?”

I roll my eyes. “What do you want, Crowley?”

He smirks. “So rude. Well, alright. Do you remember when you moved in here, Dean?”

“Yeah?” I moved in less than a year ago. Cas joined me a couple of weeks later and we started dating only a little while after that. What’s Crowley playing at?

“So you remember the little deal we made when you signed the lease?”

The day I moved in. . . I was just a kid, newly disowned, looking for a cheap place to live. Crowley came along, offering me this apartment at a very low rent. Being my only option, and a seemingly good one at that, I’d signed on the dotted line right away. That was it; we hadn’t made a deal. Crowley must know this, and I tell him as much. What’s he doing in my living room?

The landlord nods, his eyes glinting. “Yes, but did you read the fine print?”

I’m such an idiot. Of course there had been a fine print and of course I’d ignored it in my haste to find a place to live. “What does it say?”

“I’ll spare you the legal jargon, but essentially, Mr. Winchester, you are obligated to pay me, at any time which I request of you, reimbursement for the amount I spared you when you moved in.” He sits up on the couch, propping his shiny shoes on my coffee table before continuing. “And you see, Mr. Winchester, I’ve had an offer. The city council is willing to pay me a considerable sum of cash if I give them control of a large portion of my properties. Something about the ‘gentrification of Alphabet City,’ they said.”

My heart is pounding in my ears. “So you’re kicking us out?”

“That depends. Can you get me four thousand dollars by next Friday night?”

Damn, four _thousand_ dollars? I’ve never seen that much money in my life. There’s no reasonable way for me to make such a large amount in such a short amount of time; Crowley has to know that. Then again, Crowley isn’t exactly known for being reasonable.

He takes my silence as a response, getting up from his seat. “I didn’t think so. Now, you might want to get your little boyfriend back here so you can start packing—not that there’s much worth keeping,” he remarks snidely, looking around the sparsely decorated room.

My head gets hot. I can’t let this slimy, Scottish bastard get away with this. If not for me, then for Cas. He doesn’t deserve to be kicked out for my stupid mistakes.  
In a rush of adrenaline, I make a decision. “No. I can do it.”

“Pardon?” He sounds surprised. I can’t blame him.

There’s no going back now. Might as well act confident about it. “I’ll get you the money.”

Crowley looks me up and down appraisingly and chuckles. “Sure, Mr. Winchester. Four grand, in cash, in my office by eight o’clock next Friday night. If not, you’re out on the street. Good luck!”

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves my apartment, the door clanging loudly as it falls to the ground behind him. I sink down onto the sofa, the heels of my palms scrubbing at my face. Four thousand dollars in under two weeks? What have I gotten myself into?

Not a minute later, the rolling door creaks open another time. It’s just Cas this time, thank God.

“Hello, Dean,” my boyfriend greets me, his smile tired but genuine.

“Hey, Cas,” I plaster a smile onto my face. Cas is an angel; he doesn’t need to get caught up in my troubles.

There are some people whose personalities are immediately obvious the second you lay eyes on them. Castiel Novak is not one of those people. In another life, the kid might’ve made a great professional fighter or an action movie star. But definitely not in this life. Despite being built like a brick shithouse, the Cas I know is about as dangerous as a blue-eyed, scruffy kitten.  
Cas starts telling me about his day at work, but his cheerful voice quickly turns to background noise. My deal with Crowley is consuming my thoughts, nagging like an incessant alarm in the back of my head. I need to figure out how to get that money, and fast.

As politely as possible, I excuse myself from the conversation and duck outside. Maybe a walk will give me an idea of what to do. At the very least, it’ll clear my head.

Alphabet City is never a pleasant place to be, least of all in the evening. As if to prove my point, a man wolf-whistles from his spot on the sidewalk, most likely at some unsuspecting girl. Those animals. They’d fuck a horse if it stayed still long enough and they’d pay good money for it too. It’s downright feral.

Wait a second.

Is it worth it?

I’m not sure there’s another choice.

Shit, I’m gonna need some beer to get through tonight.

**The next morning.**

I stumble into the main room, my head still fuzzy from the night before. Cas is already there, standing in the kitchen area. “Good morning,” he greets me cheerfully with a chaste kiss, holding out a steaming mug of coffee. God bless boyfriends.

Grunting appreciatively, I accept the proffered drink and take a sip. Shit, my jaw is still sore. I wince, massaging my jaw. Cas, ever the perceptive one, gives me a curious look.

“Is it too hot? Sorry, I made it just before you came in.”

“No, it’s perfect, thank you,” I respond honestly. My voice sounds like a tank took a joyride down a gravel road. Clearing my throat doesn’t help. Oh well, it’s still early. Everyone’s voice sounds rougher in the morning.

We nurse our coffees in silence, both still waking up. Only after both our mugs are empty does Cas speak, making casual conversation.

“I didn’t see you come in last night. Fun night out?”

I hum noncommittally. Fun is one way to put it. 

“You got any preference for dinner tonight? I’m in the mood for burgers from that place around the corner.”

I snort, teasing. “Cas, when are you _not_ in the mood for burgers?”

Cas gasps in mock offense. “Burgers are quality dining!”

“Whatever you say, dude,” I laugh. 

“So, burgers?” My God, this kid had a one-track mind.

“Sorry, Cas, but I’m not gonna be around for dinner tonight. Gotta work the night shift at the cafe.”

Cas looks disappointed. “I get it. Tomorrow, then?”

“We’ll see,” I respond, not wanting to commit to anything just yet.

“Well, guess I’ll see you later, Dean.”

Not wanting to be guilted by Cas’ trademark puppy-dog eyes, I quickly excuse myself from the apartment. This time, I make sure to dress warmly, as I’m not planning on coming home before tonight. Turns out the streets of New York get pretty cold at night.

**A few days later.**

My head droops to the cafe counter, exhaustion consuming me. My eyes barely stay open for more than five minutes at a time. My body is screaming, imploring me to sleep, to take the day off, but that’s not an option. I have to do this. It’s up to me.

Working around the clock has certainly taken its toll on me. I’ve barely seen Cas in days, only passing by him occasionally when neither of us are working and crawling into bed to join him late at night.

The third night is slow, so I’m home a bit earlier than expected. Cas is sitting in the main room, still up. I try to get back to my room quickly, wanting to shower, but I’m limping pretty conspicuously. He doesn’t say anything, but the way his eyes narrow as I pass is somehow more incriminating than if he had spoken.

This whole situation is exhausting, but what choice do I have? Just a few more days and it’ll be back to normal. I’m doing this for us. Cas never has to know.

It’s not easy, I’ll be honest, but damn if it isn’t remarkably profitable. My sock drawer is filling up pretty quickly, almost overflowing with bills at this point. There must be hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars already and I’m only a few days in. I’m not sure whether to be proud or ashamed that I’ve made so much money so quickly.

**Five in the afternoon. Next Friday.**

Three hundred dollars. I flop back on my mattress, taking care to not disturb the piles of crumpled bills surrounding me. I’m short just three hundred dollars and there’s three hours left until Crowley’s deadline.

I’m no angel, but do I really deserve this?

If only I had one more night, one more chance to earn the last bit of cash. But even with the time, I’m not sure I could bring myself to do it. The last two weeks have left me feeling sore, dirty, and, ironically, emptier than ever before.

I lie on my bed in silence, weighing my options. There’s always Cas. The kid would be more than willing to contribute the last bit of cash. Hell, he’d probably insist on paying me back for half of it. But this isn’t Cas’ problem. I was naive, I made a mistake. I have to deal with the consequences.

Gathering up every last bit of strength I possess, I force myself up for one last shot. I have to do it. I haven’t worked this hard only to fall short by such a small amount.

Cas isn’t home. He’s probably at work. Like he thinks I am. Like most people in the city are. Will anyone even be out at this time of day? 

Oh well, whatever. What’s left to lose?

I pace back and forth along my usual alleyway, simultaneously praying that nobody shows up and hoping that someone does. 

For twenty minutes, no one even glances into the shadowed alley.

Finally, a shadowy figure turns tentatively into the narrow walkway, looking around. He’s clearly a guy, though I can’t make out any features from this distance. I walk blindly towards the man, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

I’m about three meters away from him when a familiar voice stops me in my tracks. “Dean?”

Son of a bitch. I freeze, the figure in front of me coming into focus for the first time. Cas is standing there, head tilted, eyes widened in shock and guilt. 

What. The. Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: this was a writing assignment that I actually handed in at school (with different names). And read in front of everyone. Yeah.
> 
> Betas: my entire class, my English teacher (weird), and most importantly, T.


End file.
